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Advertising: The Wedding

Creepy yet powerful campaign by WhybinTBWA for Adult Survivors of Child Abuse. As the ad says, "if only it were this easy to get over child abuse".

Selling: Elizabeth Bay #2

Shortly after last week's post on the fabulous waterfront apartment in Elizabeth Bay for sale with McGrath, Belle Property have listed a little brother version next door.

In theory, this apartment lets you can drop a kayak into the harbour from your living room, go for a paddle, and come back for an espresso on the deck before strolling to work.

In reality, I know that even with such an amazing view, I'd still wake up as late as possible, pee in the shower to save a few minutes, and rush out the door with a piece of cold toast in hand, and odd socks on my feet. At least I could enjoy the view on the weekends, though.

Predicted to sell for around $790,000, this little gem is a relatively affordable way to get a coveted harbour setting. So forget about global warming and rising seas for a while, hop in your kayak, and enjoy!

Reminiscing: EUR

EUR, originally uploaded by http://www.flickr.com/people/7596294@N02/.

It is a cold, dark December night in Rome, and I am on the grubby subway heading to Esposizione Universale Roma, or EUR, on the southern outskirts of the city, to attend a jazz concert by the sublime Brazilian artist, Cibelle. I arrive at EUR Palasport station, and am the only person to alight. I hurry upstairs into the wide Viale America and began the 10-minute walk to the concert, held in a school auditorium. Prostitutes lean against light poles, while scowling Romans in trench coats sit in their cars, cigarette in hand, browsing the ‘goods’ on display.

The wind blows across the lake, a striking contrast to the narrow, winding streets of Old Roma.

I am hungry. A pizzeria and a patisserie are open, their fluorescent glow forming halos through the foggy night sky, but they are completely empty, and I dare not enter.

I pass the imposing Banca di Roma building, which stands in darkness, a wall of glass. Some drunk teenagers pass in the opposite direction, slurring something in Italian, and I quicken my pace just a little.

I walk up the steps to the top of the hill where the auditorium sits. They are covered with slippery leaves, so I grasp the railing with one hand. A toad jumps across my path, startling me.

I finally arrive at the auditorium. A group of well-dressed Romans stand outside, chatting, laughing, smoking.

The concert is superb. Cibelle sings with the combination of sultriness and sass that I so love. Her band is funny,

When I get back to my hotel I am told that EUR is notorious for its crime, particularly for public brawls between neo-Fascist and Communist groups, and local gangs.

Still, I return the next day, eager to experience this fascinating place in daylight. I spend a good half-day walking around, photographing the monolithic structures, and drinking espresso.



EUR was conceived in the late 1930s by Fascist dictator Benito Mussolini as an out-of-town business district that would help direct the growth of Rome towards the Mediterranean sea. After Mussolini’s execution in 1945, the area continued to develop according to his original vision throughout the 1950s and 1960s, making EUR today the site of one of the finest collections of Fascist-era architecture in the world. When in EUR, you experience what Italy might have looked and felt like had it remained under Fascist rule.

It has shades of Paris’s LaDefense, and London’s Docklands. If you squint, it even feels a little like Canberra. But for me, EUR will remain in my memory as a surreal, cold, yet strangely lovable part of Rome.

Looking: Maps as art

I love maps. Always have. For as long as I can remember, sketching maps has helped me survive countless exams, boring church services, and slow days at work. On long car trips, I would browse the street directory, following our journey and trying to guess what the destination would be like. I quickly learnt that straight lines equal flat terrain, wobbly lines mean it's either hilly or an old part of town, and sphaghetti shapes probably means it's going to be a newer McMansion suburb. I also learnt that the messier the map looks, the worse the traffic will be (take Sydney or London as a case in point).


I haven't quite figured out why I love them so much. It could be the sense of discovery; the sense of finding somewhere new. Maybe it invokes a desire to travel and explore new places, a sort of abstract armchair travel. Perhaps it's simply a subconscious effort to escape wherever I am at that particular moment. Or it could just be that I like the look of them.

Several artists find maps similarly inspiring. The above work, Matrix by Emma Johnson, creates deconstructed maps using recycled materials, symbolising the tangible yet ambiguous nature of communication and transportation networks.

Another example is the late Burt Hasen, who was a soldier in World War II. Hasen's time spent reading maps on the field inspired him to spend the rest of his life creating cartographic art, such as Convulsive Coupling (below).

Thinking: Straightjackets

Straitjacket, originally uploaded by Prettyspot.

While watching the incredible film Changeling on the weekend I was struck with the terror that must be felt by people who are put into a psychiatric institution, knowing they don't have a problem, but unable to convince their 'minders' otherwise.

Caroline Collins was placed into psychiatric care by the LAPD, after she tried to uncover a mistake they had made in the search for her missing son. Not wanting to be embarrassed by the mistake, the LAPD instead claimed Caroline had lost her mind. It wasn't the first time they had tried to lock up a troublemaker in this way.

Upon Caroline's admission to the institution, a patient in a similar situation gives her the following advice: "If you smile too much, you're delusional. If you don't smile, you're depressed. If you remain neutral, you're emotionally withdrawn."

Of course Caroline tries to convince the head doctor and nurses that it is all a terrible mistake. You'd have to at least try. But after they put her in a straightjacket and take her struggling body to 'Room 18', she finally realises that nothing she says or does will help her escape: her fate is sealed and whatever she says will be used against her as further evidence of her unsound mind.

In the end, Caroline chooses the frank yet appropriate response to the doctor who 'framed' her: "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on." And I think that's exactly what I'd say too.

Looking: Tobias Rehberger

Why are Germans always the kinky ones? Tobias Rehberger is an installation and performance artist who sometimes dabbles in other media, such as photography. His work drips with satire, such as Untitled (above), which parodies Fergie's oh-so-90s toe-sucking antics, albeit with a cuter guy, and fluoro cardboard cutouts.

Rehberger's installation piece, the cheekily titled Lying Around Lazy, Not Even Moving for Coke, Sweets, TV or Vaseline, (1999 version), is kinky in a different way, because it sets out to deliberately reverse the usual artistic process. Usually, artists generate an artistic vision first, then execute this vision to be later enjoyed by the viewer. In this instance, Rehberger asked his friends what they would like in their ideal apartment. He then sought to recreate their vision without giving any input or feedback on what he thought of the idea. Similar to how bloggers created the plot for 'Snakes on a Plane' (but with much better results).

So what's my point? I guess what I'm saying is that Germans are kinky. That's all. I rest my case.

Quoting: Henry David Thoreau

"Simplify, simplify, simplify" - Henry David Thoreau, 1854.

Picture by David Burdeny whose long-exposure nature shots so beautifully depict the true meaning of simplification, like the above photo of Canadian wheat fields.

Building: What is wow?

John Prescott, Tony Blair's deputy prime minister, and responsible for urban planning in the UK throughout the early 2000s, was continually asked, "What is wow?". His response? "It's buildings that strike you and you say, 'bloody 'ell'".

Prescott, in his typically raw manner, has described what has gradually become architectural consensus over the past decade-or-so. For architecture to be good, we are told, it needs to be so spectacular, so radical, so mind-blowing, that we should unanimously say "bloody 'ell". And many buildings elicit exactly that response - great buildings like PTW's Water Cube, Foster's Gherkin or Gehry's beautiful but ridiculous aluminium franchises that have sprung up everywhere from LA to Bilbao (there was even talk of him building one in Geelong, for chrissakes).

For me, 'wow' doesn't have to equate to spectacular. A perfect example is Casey Brown's Mudgee Tower. Here is a building that is small in proportion (only a 3 sqm footprint), yet with a wow factor beyond comparison. It's setting, sense of place and permanency, innovation and simplicity are what gives the Tower its 'wow' factor.

And if, when viewing such a building, you still say "bloody 'ell", then so be it.

Thinking: Position Vacant

Go to any careers advisor and they will tell you that in order to be happy in life you need to follow your dream. "If you find your dream job, you'll never work a day in your life". Blah blah blah. Does anyone actually believe this? And if it is true, how do you even know what your dream job is?

One tip that is common in self-help books, web forums, et al, is to have a go at writing your ideal job ad. The kind of ad that, if you saw it in the newspaper, would excite and inspire you, because you would know it is YOUR dream job.

So here's mine:

Mildly creative yet vague and directionless individual wanted to research current trends, browse bookshops and art galleries, read newspapers and magazines and occasionally cook a gourmet meal.

This is a new position so the final outcomes are not yet clear, however it is expected that you some photography and writing skills are advantageous, as is a business degree. Must be computer literate and possess superior people and communication skills.

A generous remuneration package, expense account, and extensive travel opportunities are on offer to the successful candidate.

This position will be based at home so you must have office space, the desire to work alone and the discipline to set your own hours.

So what do you think - am I asking too much?

Looking: Iwan Baan

Iwan Baan is a Dutch photographer best known for his work with OMA/Rem Koolhaas. Obviously, this means he has plenty of divine architecture to use as material. But Baan goes beyond simply photographing buildings, and combines people and place in a way that few other photographers manage.

Thinking: Landfill

It's hot in Sydney. Maybe not as hot as Melbourne but still hot. Hot enough to lose sleep at night if you don't have the luxury of air-con, or the poor man's equivalent, a fan. So I bought one for the princely sum of $12.59.

Once I finished interpreting the chinglish assembly instructions, and recovering from a flying nut that flew out when I first turned the thing on, I began to feel guilty. Guilty with the knowledge that, one day, that fan will end up in landfill, along with the hundreds of other fans that were running out the door today at Target.

The environment has been on my mind since watching a recent episode of the brilliant Mad Men. Set in the 1950s, the show often depicts things you just don't see any more, like smoking housewives, black maids, and the like. In this episode, the Draper family are having a picnic. When they decide to leave, they simply shake their rubbish-laden picnic rug onto the lawn, jump into their Oldsmobile, and drive off.

For some reason, this really shocked me, that people from my parents generation used to do this to our planet. My first reaction was that it was unsophisticated, even primitive, but I quickly realised that in almost 60 years, we haven't changed that much. We were trashing our planet in the 50s with debris from our picnics, and we rubbish it today with twelve dollar fans from China.

And what's even worse is that I try to relieve my guilt by blogging about it, like somehow it negates the fact that I am also part of this unstoppable beast.

Eating: Ritter Sport

100g squares of pure joy, wrapped in cute and clever packaging.

I had my first Ritter while travelling through Europe. Ever since, I've been having a secret love affair. My fave is the Whole Hazelnuts, although the Praline is a close second.

And any chocolate company that can get away with having the word 'Sport' in their name is worthy of adoration.

Designing: When architects become their city

For a select few architects, their work somehow becomes indistinguishable from the city itself. While they may practice in many cities, their work always conveys a particular setting. Think of Norman Foster in London (so very nouveau British), Richard Neutra in Los Angeles (total LA cool), Denton Corker Marshall in Melbourne (all those sticks!).

In Sydney, we have many beautiful and iconic works by leading architects such as Jorn Utzon, BKH, Allen Jack+Cottier and Alex Popov. But there are only two architects that, to me, truly represent this city's character - Harry Seidler and Engelen Moore.

Harry Seidler pioneered the Bauhaus movement in Sydney and, in fact, Australia, with his unapologetically modernist Blues Point Tower (1961), Australia Square (1967) and MLC Centre (1975). In his recent, Horizon (1998) and Cove (1999) apartment buildings, Seidler continued to demonstrate this ethos. Seidler died in 2006 but he has made an indelible mark on this city.

Engelen Moore were founded in 1995 with the partnership of Tina Engelen and Ian Moore. They disbanded just over 10 years later, but their apartment buildings such as Altair, Barcom Avenue, 150 Liverpool Street and The Grid - which are all located within a few blocks of each other - convey the essence of Sydney like no other. Variously described as 'functionalist', 'international' and 'minimalist', their work focuses on light, air and environment, just like Sydney itself. Ross Honeysett's photography beautifully illustrates this concept.

As both Seidler and Engelen Moore are no longer practicing, the question arises: who will take their place? Who will become the next architect to convey what Sydney in the 21st century is all about?

Pondering: Tattoo or not tattoo

Is it just me, or have tattoos been everywhere lately? On holidays in Byron Bay, at the gym, even at work, everyone seems to either have one, or be in the process of getting one.

Every time I go on holidays I tell myself that, this time, I will get a tatt. But when push comes to shove I either don't have the balls to go ahead with it, or I'm too afraid of my mother's reaction when I next see her. Probably a combination of both.

My other challenge is to answer the age-old questions of 'What?' and 'Where?'. I can't even find a shirt that I like in a week's time, let alone a motif that will mean something and not make me look tragic when I retire in 2048. And don't get me started on the location of said tattoo - will one on the arm make me look like a Cronulla local; the chest too much like a bra boy? It's all too hard.

Anyway, I think I've turned cold on the idea after reading Fecal Face's article on DIY-tattoos while eating today's lunch. I've never really thought of the actual process of tattooing, the act itself, but after doing just that, I'm not so sure. Fundamentally, DIY tatts are no different from what you get in a professional tatt house, but for some reason the idea of attaching a home-sterilised needle to the end of a pencil, dipping it into ink, and sticking hundreds of tiny holes into the back of my arm seems a little too grotesque.

So maybe it's not my lack of balls, my disapproving mother, or my issues about what and where. Maybe I'm just not a tatt kind of guy after all.

Selling: Elizabeth Bay

Sydney has thousands of apartments with harbour views, but there are not many that get as close to the water's edge as this gem at 1/79 Elizabeth Bay Road, Elizabeth Bay.

It's currently listed through McGrath. I see it from across the harbour every evening while walking the dog and have always thought it is such a special site - with the blue expanse of Sydney Harbour rolling off the balcony.

I have no idea what the asking price is but the auction on February 28 will reveal how many buyers in Sydney are still in the market for a premium waterfront property in these "difficult times". If that is you, you could potentially pick it up for a steal. The rest of us, sigh, will have to keep on dreaming.

Travelling: Japan

I've always wanted to visit Japan. Despite Sensei Graetz's abhorrent teaching methods in Grade 5 Japanese lessons, the land has always held a certain allure, with travellers telling tales of vending machines that stock everything from hot coffee to women's underwear; fish markets where you can have sushi and beer for breakfast; and a Bladerunner-esque cityscape.

Unfortunately, the ridiculous AUD to JPY exchange rate - which has plummetted in the past six months as the below graph shows - means that it will be a while before I can afford a trip to the Land Of The Rising Sun. I could visit Honkers, Taiwan or Shanghai to try and replicate, whose currencies have marginally better exchange rates, but I'm sure it wouldn't be quite the same.



By the way the top pic is by Nicholas Vroman, a fine arts photographer who takes the most amazing pics of Japan. Nicholas is currently the Featured Artist in F-Stop e-zine.
(The bottom pic is available from any currency exchange provider and is enough to depress any travel-hungry Australian).

Quoting: Gaston Bachelard on houses

"If I were to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters daydreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace... the house is one of the greatest powers of integration for the thoughts and memories of mankind" - Gaston Bachelard, 1958

Thinking: Barefoot Society

I haven't worn shoes for ten days. Ten blissful days of freedom, feeling the sand between my toes, the grass beneath my feet, the hot asphalt. But it was only while donning shoes to head up to Kings Cross for some dinner this evening that I really came to appreciate how good living sans-footwear really is.

It seems I'm not alone. There are hundreds of online groups devoted to the barefooted lifestyle. These people live their entire lives barefoot- and what's more, the majority seem to live in places that have real winters. The idea is that when ducking into Dean+Deluca for some New York home cooking, they do it barefoot. When taking the dog out for a pee in foggy Golden Gate Park, they do it barefoot. When buying a coffee at Starbucks, even while at work, they do it barefoot.

So although I might have trouble convincing my employer to let me work barefoot, and the risk of needlestick injury around Kings Cross station may be too great, from now on I consider myself an honorary barefooter and will set my feet free any chance I get.

Thinking: New Month's Resolutions

So we're one month through the year and most of us would have renegged on at least one new year's resolution. Sure, I've been blogging regularly (#1) and exercising more than ever (#2 - although possibly due to some obscenely good weather), but I havent made a dent on that credit card balance (#3) and have definitely consumed more liquid amber than originally intended (#4). Thing is, 12 months is just too long to commit to something.

Which is why I'm proposing New Month's Resolutions (NMRs). I've marked a reminder in my diary for the last day of every month, to set a NMR for the next month. My first NMR is to hand-write all blogs before posting - simple and easy to commit to for the next four-or-so weeks.

I still plan to keep my #1 and #2 resolutions for the entire year (and hopefully beyond), but I hope that for me, NMRs will mean I achieve 12 goals instead of one or two. And I can keep up my beer consumption, at least till next month rolls around...

Writing

I've just returned from a beach holiday at Byron Bay in northern New South Wales. The absence of a computer and the desire to spend a week without looking at a computer screen had an interesting and unexpected side-effect: I rediscovered writing. And by writing I mean the act of putting pen (or pencil, sharpie, etc) to paper (or napkin, beer coaster, et al).

Sure, being a member of the illustrious group that is Gen Y means I can type faster than I can write, and computers do allow me to subedit as I go. But there is something very cathartic about writing with real, tactile hand movements. The flow of the pen strokes, the crunch of a new leaf of paper, the thought that so many before me have done the exact thing, and are doing that right now - writing shopping lists, wills, poetry, phone numbers or just doodling.

I've always loved looking at other people's handwriting too. An architect uncle of mine has writing that could easily be framed and hung for its beauty. Barack Obama's signature is also a little piece of visual beauty, with its bold 'B' and confident, flowing letters. And I love those Amex ads that have been doing the rounds, where artists/celebrities/personalities answer a written questionnaire, with the last question being "My card is..." Leading question, I know. Anyway, I couldn't care about their actual answers, which I'm sure were written by some PR hack, but their handwriting does reveal a lot about the person's age, education, even their personality.

So - my new month's resolution is to hand-write all my blog posts (including this one) before typing them for publication. I'm not expecting the writing quality to improve, and I'm certain it will take me longer. However I hope it will allow me to take the time to simply enjoy the wonderful act of writing.

Reading: Roger-Pol Droit

The 38-degree heat and an upcoming beach holiday has put me in a contemplative and philosophical mood. I am a dreamer by nature, but today especially so.

In these moments I find myself returning to what may just be my favourite book, 101 expériences de philosophie quotidienne (101 Experiments in the Philosophy of Everyday Life), by Roger-Pol Droit.

This book has special meaning to me, as I first encountered it when I had just finished high school and was trying to figure out what to do with my life. While I haven't answered that question yet, this book was instrumental in me learning how to step outside my mind, experiencing familiar things in a new way, and revel in the spontaneity of life.

The book is small, only 200 pages, and contains 101 simple 'experiments' that will have the reader reflecting on life, death and everything in between.

Some experiments are humourous, such as Dread the arrival of the bus, or Drink while urinating (surprisingly liberating). Some are sobering, such as Imagine your imminent death, or Contemplate a dead bird. And some may get you in trouble, such as Tell a stranger she is beautiful.

But every experiment in this book, no matter how silly or scary they sound, will have you looking at life in an entirely different and unique way, no matter how many times you try them.

Looking: Darren Wardle

"it's like another perfect day... I love LA" - Randy Newman

Me too. Sure, LA's a sprawling, crime-ridden metropolis with vapid people and insane traffic, but I like it because it is, more than anything else, a microcosm of the world. Everyone you've ever met, every movie you've watched, every joke you've laughed at, and every tragedy that has made you shed a tear, has been put into one huge blender and poured across a concrete valley. There's nowhere else quite like it.

Darren Wardle is a Melbourne artist whose airbrushed, 80s-inspired artworks reference LA and other 'car cities' such as Las Vegas and, to a lesser extent, Melbourne and Sydney. His hypercolour, saturated and overexposed images are meticulously detailed and devoid of any human presence. His work depicts an artificial, almost dream-like world where perfection is both alluring and repelling. Kind of like LA, actually.

Wardle is represented by Sullivan+Strumpf in Sydney, and Nellie Castan Gallery in Melbourne.

Laughing: I Have A Dream

Riding: Light Lanes

I've always liked the idea of riding to work, shops, movies, anywhere really. We have the perfect climate for cycling, as well as terrible traffic problems and a dwindling supply of fossil fuels. Yet for some reason the imbiciles that govern our city and state have spent more time building road tunnels they can't afford, rather than seriously invest in safe cycling (and public transport, for that matter, but that's another post for another time). As a result, the closest I've come to cycling in Sydney is last night's spinning class.

So what's a rider to do? Like everything important in life, if you want something done properly, you need to do it yourself. So Altitude's Alex Tee and Evan Gant came up with the Light Lane: a laser-powered bike lane that projects from follows you wherever you go. So you don't need to wait for the schmuks on Macquarie Street to get their act together. Ingenious!

Thanks to Two Thousand for the tip.

Wearing: My new sunnies

I've never seen myself as a sunnies kinda guy. Of course they are a necessity in Australia, but I've never really thought too much about them apart from that.

Until recently, I owned a pair of classic Ray Bans. They started getting a bit tired and I didn't know what to replace them with. But then I had an epiphany when browsing Kings Cross on a Saturday morning a few weeks back - I tried on my first pair of AMs at Haku. AM Eyewear is an Aussie label that is handcrafted from Italian materials, with a contemporary design that references classic 'Bans. All without trying too hard.

The even cooler thing is I went for the brown tint - so now my entire world looks like Armageddon. Awesome.

Reminiscing: Confucius has closed

Confucius has closed, originally uploaded by traffman.

Confucius was a little Chinese restaurant in Kings Cross. It never occurred to me to eat there because it reminded me of a low-grade Chinese restaurant, the type you find in country towns. But its closure has me reminiscing.

Chinese restaurants first began appearing in Australia in the 1950s. Australia in the 1950s was a very different place to today. Meat and three veg was the staple diet, immigration was something to be feared - not celebrated - and a large proportion of the population lived in a regional or non-urban setting. Despite the advent of the White Australia policy and subsequent ‘yellow peril’ hysteria, there seemed to be one Chinese family in every town, who would own the one 'international' restaurant. Albury, the country town where I grew up, was no exception.

I have fond memories driving empty single-lane highways with my father throughout regional New South Wales and Victoria, knowing that no matter what town we end up in, it would have a (nearly always empty) Chinese restaurant waiting for us, serving such cultural delicacies as sweet-and-sour, chow mein and, best of all, deep-fried ice cream. I cringe at the thought of eating these foods today, and, it seems, so do my neighbours, as the closure of Confucius illustrates.

These restaurants demonstrate sheer entrepreneurialism. Men and women moved their families into foreign, remote and unwelcoming environments, and established a business in the hope of creating a new, more prosperous and enjoyable life.

In the urban and self-consciously evolved society that is contemporary Australia, it is easy to dismiss our first taste of international cuisine as pure cultural cringe. But I am grateful to our first international restaurants and the people that ran them, because they helped establish the rich culinary landscape that Australia enjoys today.

Without chow mein, we may never have had Kylie Kwong, and for that we should be eternally grateful.

Listening: My President Is Black

Young Jeezy of all people has come up with this rousing ode to the USA's first African-American President.

I've pasted my fave part of the lyrics below:

Tell him I'm doin fine, Obama for mankind
We ready for damn change so y'all let the man shine
Stuntin on Martin Luther, feelin just like a king
Guess this is what he meant when he said that he had a dream

My president is black, my Lambo's blue
And I'll be goddamned if my rims ain't too
My money's light green and my Jordans light grey
And they love to see white, now how much you tryna pay?
Let's go!

Yeah, our history, black history, no president ever did shit for me
Had to hit the streets, had to flip some keys so a nigga won't go broke
Then they put us in jail, now a nigga can't go vote
So I spend doe, all these hoes is trippin
She a ain't a politician, honey's a polotician
My president is black, rolls golden charms
Twenty-two inch rims like Hulk Hogan's arms
When thousands of peoples is riled up to see you
That can arouse ya ego, we got mouths to feed so
Gotta stay true to who you are and where you came from
Cause at the top will be the same place you hang from
No matter how big you can ever be
For whatever fee or publicity, never lose your integrity
For years there's been surprise horses in this stable
Just two albums in, I'm the realest nigga on this label
Mr. Black President, yo Obama for real
They gotta put your face on the five-thousand dollar bill

Thinking: Arts in the USA

I was surprised to learn that the United States doesn't have any representation of Arts at the Senate or federal level. Although this is the land of Paris, Britney, Miley, and many other "artists" who have saturated the world's airwaves knows on a first-name basis, it is also home to one of the world's most dynamic contemporary arts scenes, particularly in Los Angeles and Miami, and, of course, the stalwart that is New York.

With Barack Obama's imminent inauguration, the calls to introduce a Secretary of the Arts are becoming increasingly loud. Arts advocates see Obama - who is said to be the most depicted president-elect in US history and has an iPod stocked with artists as diverse as Bob Dylan, Jay-Z, John Coltrane and Bruce Springsteen - as their greatest chance in decades to make this happen.

Although we in Australia are not seen as being particularly cultured (despite our self-view - perhaps this is the very symbol of being uncultured; when we think we are despite evidence to the contrary), we have federal arts representation sitting within the menagerie of responsibilities under the Department of the Environment, Water, Heritage and the Arts. The Arts component is mainly responsible for literature, film, indigenous arts and administering tax incentives.

It is hoped that a US Secretary of the Arts will be able to increase awareness of America's diverse arts amongst its own people, as well as administer grants, educate young people on art history

However with the country in the midst of an economic crisis, the possibility of Obama adding a new bureaucracy, no matter how committed to the arts he is, seems unlikely.

Watching: Doubt

I doubt I'll make it to the gym this afternoon. I also doubt the Gaza treaty will work. That's the funny thing about doubt - it is constantly there; from the most insignificant suspicion to the most important allegation.

Doubt is set in the cold, wet and windy grounds of St Nicholas school in The Bronx, NY, which Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep) rules with an iron fist. When she begins to suspect Father Brendan Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) of abusing of a black student, she makes it her mission to bring him down. What follows is a power play between a woman who is too certain - or too proud - to go back on her word, and a man who is either too powerless - or too guilty - to fight it.

Doubt is based on a play of the same name, and it shows, with only three scenes in the entire 103-minute film. But it never feels boring. The wind howls and causes goosebumps to form on the back of your neck. Streep is both infuriating and enchanting, and Hoffman even more so.

Thinking: Suicide Towers

Suicide Towers, originally uploaded by traffman.

I've been following the troubles at the 'Three M's' estate in Rosemeadow, on Sydney's outskirts, with great interest over the past couple of weeks. It always fascinates me whether people are a product of their environment, or whether the environment is actually a product of the people.

This photo was taken in the centre of Redfern, where 41.6% of residents live in public housing, according to the 2006 census. Most live in high-density buildings with deceptively quaint names such as James Cook, Joseph Banks, Marton and Turanga.

These buildings, along with Northcott Towers in nearby Surry Hills, were bold social experiments from the 60s, where slums were cleared and residents were moved into new, affordable housing close to work opportunities in Sydney's CBD. Poorly resourced, with inadequate police and community facilities, these grand plans soon turned into a hotbed of violent crime, mental illness and illicit drugs. But in 2006, Northcott became first public housing estate in the world to be recognised as a "safe community" by the World Health Organisation. Brendan Fletcher's excellent documentary 900 Neighbours profiles the huge effort between residents and the wider community that resulted in their building being turned around.

The Three M's estate was developed about 15 years after the Surry Hills and Redfern projects, and was based on the idealistic Radburn Plan, first implemented in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. The concept was to separate traffic and pedestrians by flipping houses so garages face the street and the main house faces a communal parkland at the back, which in turn pioneered the cul-de-sac, that universally adopted symbol of suburbia. What it has meant in Three M's, however, has been isolation and a lack of security and privacy.

Yet other Radburn-based developments, such as Milgate Park Estate in Doncaster East, Melbourne, many parts of Canberra, and even Thurgoona, where I grew up, have not experienced the same social ills as Rosemeadow. So what went wrong at Three M's? Surely if a huge building like Northcott Towers can reinvent itself, it can't be too hard for three suburban streets?

Clicking: Uncyclopedia

In primary school, there was a kid who everyone used to tease for spending his lunch times reading encyclopedias in the library. Of course I joined in the teasing, being very careful to not reveal a deep, dark secret to my friends: that after school, in the safety of my own bedroom, I also enjoyed getting lost in the foreign, exotic worlds contained in the pages of these wonderful books.

Lexicon was my preferred brand at the time, as it had colour pictures and a more contemporary, American flavour than the stuffy old Oxfords they had at school. In high school, I swiftly moved into the digital age with Microsoft's Encarta, which had interactive stories and videos which I spent hours exploring.

Since those days I've used the convenient but unreliable Wikipedia as my main source of research. Which is why I was so excited when I discovered Uncyclopedia.

I only discovered the site recently while browsing travel destinations in Canada. I thought I was on Wikipedia and was interested to read that "Oscar Wilde actually had his first homosexual experience in Vancouver, leading to the town's well-beloved nickname 'That place where Oscar Wilde rendez-vouzed with 12 dudes at the same time'". Saucy...

Then I noticed the appeal from Uncyclopedia Mother Codeine's Mum, the site rules (1: Be funny, not just stupid; 2: Don't be a dick), and the potato puzzle logo and I realised that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

This site is serious fun. With just the right amount of cheek, it really more informative and insightful than Wikipedia. I tested this site by researching some places that I'm familiar with,
and within a few minutes I learnt that "Sydney is loosely translated from the native Aboriginal language as "Atlanta with a harbour"" (so true) and that Melbourne has the lowest crime rate in Australia due to the continued presence of the city's founder, Batman (not to mention that the majority of "suss people" spend 6 months of the year in stadiums watching football). Too funny.

Uncyclopedia makes encyclopedias cool. Had the site been around during my childhood, I think that kid in the library wouldn't have been teased, and I would have been able to come out and announce to the world that I, too, like to read encyclopedias. I mean, it even has swear words! How cool is that?!

Building: Albury LibraryMuseum

Growing up in Albury in the 1980s, I was immersed in an architectural landscape consisting of a few federation buildings, 1970s tract housing and a really, really long railway station. It took a vivid imagination, a stack of old magazines, and hours trawling architecture books from the local - and, it should be said, poorly-designed - library for a kid to garner architectural inspiration.

So, when recently in town, I was delighted and surprised to discover the library had been replaced by the stunning Albury LibraryMuseum, designed by AshtonRaggattMcDougall.

The LibraryMuseum’s architecture references that same really, really long railway station, as well as local bridge and building design, and the region's natural features of rivers and trees. It aims to be the “city’s living room”, and what a stunning living room it has become.

I’ve admired ARM’s work since first laying eyes on Storey Hall as a wide-eyed 15 year old on my first solo trip to Melbourne, and now they have made their mark in my home town. Hopefully, with this striking addition, children growing up in Albury today will find inspiration a little closer to home.

Thinking: Meme

A meme (pronounced /miːm/) comprises a unit or element of cultural ideas, symbols or practices; such units or elements transmit from one mind to another through speech, gestures, rituals, or other imitable phenomena.

In internet land, a meme is just another word to describe a giant in-joke.

I first came across the word when I discovered the Song Chart Meme on flickr. Here, a bunch of people with way too much time on their hands have created graphs and charts to describe their favourite songs. Like these. Can you guess which classic songs they depict?

Kinda like cryptic crosswords, but actually fun.